Unapologize

By: PricklySare

A/N: A little something special for my Smut lovers out there. :) Now on to the suspense and confusion! As always, standard disclaimers apply. Meg, this is for you. :)

Sare

Chapter Twenty-Two: Ranger Doesn't Drink Tequila

Fire was consuming me. My body was burning up and I didn't want it to stop. Every inch of my skin was prickling with electricity, with the need I'd been denying for so long. My lungs were constricting, making it difficult for me to catch a full breath. My panting filled the room as her lips trailed down my chest brushing against my flat nipples, causing them to pebble. Her curly hair tickled my skin as she slid her lips lower and lower down my body.

A moan escaped my lips as I buried my hands in her hair. Her throaty laugh filled my ears as I felt her smile against my body. She was torturing me, but if this was torture she could chain me to the wall. My cock was painfully hard and it jumped every time she brushed against it, which in my need filled opinion wasn't nearly often enough. Mentally I was chanting, 'lower, lower, lower', but I knew I couldn't say the words. The lump in my throat prevented any words from coming out.

I felt paralyzed, but I could feel everything. If she didn't put me out of my misery soon I was going to die. She was going to kill me, but what a way to go. Finally, I felt her breath on my cock and I wanted to shout, but I didn't. She lowered her mouth slowly around me without ever touching my throbbing erection, and I nearly screamed in frustration. I needed to feel her lips, her tongue, her teeth on me. 'Please, Babe, please,' my mind begged.

From my position I could barely see what she was doing, but what I could see was torture. Her eyes flashed in triumph when they locked with mine and a whimper escaped me when I felt her mouth close around me all the way from base to tip. Holy Mary, Mother of God. Santa María, Madre de Dios. I'd died and gone to heaven. Gracias Padre, porque he pecado. Yes, thank you Father, for I have sinned. I would have grinned, but I could no longer feel my face.

She had the most talented mouth that I'd ever experienced and experiencing it, I was. Her tongue was like magic, velvet and soft. I moaned when she licked the pre-cum that was beading up on my slit, and felt a shiver run through my body as she moaned around me, working her hot mouth up and down my shaft, so slowly it was like a caress.

Her hand slid down and began massaging my balls, lightly pulling on them with every stroke of her mouth. I wanted to scream in frustration when she took her mouth off me with a 'pop', but I didn't have a chance before she'd taken one of my balls in her mouth and began rolling it around with her tongue, before moving to the other one.

The need was building inside me and I knew if she didn't stop I wasn't going to last. There was no way I was going to cum in her mouth, not this time. I wanted to be buried deep inside her, feeling her contracting around me as she came. With superhuman effort I said, "Not like this, Babe. Let me be in you. Please," I begged. She slowly released me and before she could say anything I had her flipped onto her back and I was poised at her welcoming entrance.

"What are you waiting for, Carlos?" she asked breathlessly. "I thought you wanted to be inside me." She had barely gotten the words out and I was buried to the hilt inside her.

We both groaned and I stayed perfectly still while I reigned in my need to pound into her, taking her like the beast that was raging inside of me. I released the air I'd brought into my lungs, "Christ, Babe. You're so tight, so wet; you're like a glove that was made especially for me." I began moving, slowly at first, prolonging our mutual torture. She was whimpering under me, digging her nails into my bare back, thrusting her hips in time with mine.

I could feel her muscles beginning to tremble and I sped up my thrusts, "Harder. Please, Carlos, harder!" She chanted. I felt my control snap, and I let the beast within me take control. The only sounds were our moans, and the slapping of our skin as we thrust against each other. When her orgasm took her over and her muscles clinched around me like a vice, she whimpered again, "Carlos. Oh, God, Carlos. I love you," and my own orgasm claimed me, our juices mixing together and coating my cock while I continued to thrust until her muscles had milked me dry.

I woke up with a start, my pants coated with my release and I flopped back onto the bed. "Fuck," I said, rubbing my hands over my face. "A dream. A fucking dream." I felt like a teenager having my first wet dream. I was too fucking old to be cumming all over myself in my sleep. The memory of the way she felt when I was buried deep inside her wouldn't leave my head. The dream was so real, so vivid, that I could still hear her saying my name, begging me, loving me. I needed to get this shit taken care of and get back to her.

Climbing off the bed I went straight into the bathroom to clean myself up. I was due to meet my contact in less than an hour, and I had no desire to be sticky. The desert was bad enough without being covered in my own fluids.

I was sitting in the back corner of La Cantina, my back to the wall, ignoring the ambiance. This was a place that had never seen good times, it had always been a shit hole, and would always remain a shit hole. The door opened, and a short Mexican man walked in. He fit every stereotype that American culture had created. His skin was a deep leathery brown, and his face had deep scars from acne. He was overweight, greasy, and shifty-eyed. Yes, he definitely fit the stereotype.

As he walked toward me, I watched as he removed his brightly colored serape, draping it over the back of his seat as he sat down. He had a gun at his back, and at least one around his ankle. I wouldn't doubt if he had a few knives scattered on his body as well. I knew that I did. Raising his hand to the waitress he spoke and ordered a bottle of tequila. I ordered a cerveza in a bottle. No need to take a chance with their glasses.

"You have information for me," I stated without preamble once the waitress left.

"Sí, Señor," he said, his eyes shifting around, taking in his surroundings. We were silent as the waitress delivered our drinks and tried to catch my eye. I ignored her, my eyes never leaving the man in front of me. He poured himself a shot and tossed it back before continuing in Spanish. "Things have not been good here, friend." He tossed back another shot. "Something has happened at the compound, they've been cleaning up shop. Nothing is as it was, and things are moving fast." I watched him down another shot, and inwardly flinched. I swear I heard his liver begging for mercy.

I continued to ignore my beer and asked in flawless Spanish, "What can you tell me about the layout?" He took a deep breath before he started coughing and trying to clear his throat.

"The. Blue. Prints," he choked out between coughs, until he was coughing too hard to speak. I watched as his airway was slowly closing and he was losing his ability to breathe. There was nothing I could do to save him. He was dead as soon as he'd taken the first shot. Fuck! I wasn't sure what the Hell was going on, but I knew that he wasn't the only one that was supposed to be dead. I guessed that someone figured because I was hispanic I'd drink Tequila. Not in this Hell hole.

I stood up from my chair and leaned down to speak quietly in his ear, "I'm sorry, friend," I said; and I really was. This was a dangerous world to live in, and we knew going in that death was a likely possiblity. That never made it any easier to deal with. This whole mission was FUBAR from the beginning, and now someone was playing a very deadly game with my life. Running my hands over his serape I felt a bundle tucked into the folds. I didn't bother looking at it, just slid it under my own colorful garment and headed out into the cold desert night.

My mind was trying to understand what the informant was talking about, trying to work out what it could all mean. The blueprints for the compound were with my gear stashed away safely in the desert, where I'd put them before heading to the meeting. I needed to go over them again, maybe I'd missed something. I glanced at my watch. I didn't have much time, it was already nearing 0200 hours and I needed to get this done in the next few days. Tomorrow night would be the best. I didn't know if I had longer than that. From the sound of it, they were cleaning house and moving out. That really fucked with my timeline.

A sound so faint most people wouldn't have heard it, alerted me to company. I reached beneath my serape and in one move my gun was pointed at the person. Shock hit me like a fist, but I kept my face blank. Could this mission get anymore fucked up?

"Hello, Carlos. Miss me?"